The Arms Are Fair, When The Intent

I Doubt Not Then But Innocence Shall Makefalse Accusation Blush, And Tyrannytremble At Patience.

You See Me Here, You Gods, A Poor Old Man, As Full Of Grief As Age; Wretched In Both.

It Is The Disease Of Not Listening...... That I Am Troubled With.

This World Is Not For Aye, Nor 'tis Not Strange That Even Our Loves Should With Our Fortunes Change, For 'tis A Question Left Us Yet To Prove, Whether Love Lead Fortune, Or Else Fortune Love.

Like Patience Gazing On Kings' Graves, And Smiling Extremity Out Of Act.